


A Moment in Time

by BainAduial



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BainAduial/pseuds/BainAduial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet, unobserved moment of beauty in the dark</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment in Time

An outsider – had there been any, on that cold December night, to view the scene – would possibly have thought it something from a movie set, or at the very least a Hallmark card, not the sort of scene which occurs as the general rule. Then again, each scene, each moment lived, is in some way beautiful and miraculous in ways such trite things as greeting cards can never be. 

The moment was softened by a light snowfall, enough to cover the drifts already piled high in a fresh blanket of diamond and make the streets and walkways glisten in the light of the lamps lit against the winter evening. Softened to more senses than just the eyes, for in such moments the lightly falling snow seems to muffle all sound, so that it feels as though one walks through a world hushed in anticipation. Of what, one is never quite sure. 

It is under one of these pools of light that the observer – had there been one – would have found their attention caught and held by a young couple. They stood, illuminated in the beam as though they had simply halted for a moment, caught up in its pale brilliance while the world continued to pass about them. The street before them was empty of vehicles, allowing a clear view; behind them, the stained-glass windows of a church glowed with all the warmth meant to live in mens’ hearts during the following days. 

The taller of the pair had tipped her head down slightly, smiling a gentle smile at her companion. Short hair escaped in a fluffy fringe around the bottom of a knit cap, golden-brown against the deep black of a wool winter coat. Tailored trousers and warm black boots completed the ensemble, with matching leather gloves adorning the hands. Indeed, an observer would mistake her for a man, if it were not that the posture and the cheerfully pretty face gave her away in an instant. 

Her companion, shorter by only a little, looked quite as though she had stepped from the pages of a magazine from an older time. Long brown locks tumbled from beneath a knitted tam-o’-shanter, waving down her back and held from her face by small jewelled clips. A long cream wool coat covered most of her clothing, leaving only a hint of tasteful blue skirt to show, falling loosely just below her knees. Tall black ladies’ boots in a style that never goes out of fashion met the skirt, and a scarf and set of gloves that matched her tam gave the entire ensemble a look of home-knit elegance. Sparkling eyes set above cheerful rosy cheeks turned an already pretty face into something divine.

An observer – had there been one – would have noted the genuinely joyful, loving, and contented cast to the smiles of both women. They might have smiled to see a young couple enjoying a perfect moment, stepping outside of time to quietly impart to each other the kind of emotion that can only come at such moments, in such company. But such an observer, outside of the moment and thus likely to move on, would have missed the moment when the tableau broke, when the couple began to move again, when the entire universe seemed to finish holding its breath and time resume as normal. They would have missed the taller woman holding out, in a black-gloved hand, a small velvet box, and the stunned joy on the face of the smaller as she opened it to view a simple ring, cast in silver rather than gold, with tiny diamonds set in a snowflake pattern. They would have missed her eyes glittering as she murmured something – yes, of course, words of gentle endearment – to the other. They would have missed the impish grin of the taller as the box was carefully closed, the church gestured at – unwilling to risk her companion’s hands in the cold, best to wait to put it on until they were inside.

And they would have missed the moment when the two quietly entered the church, on the eve of Christmas, the taller to sit and listen to a service affirming many of the best things humanity had to offer, the smaller to participate in the service as a musician of some repute, before enjoying the quiet but heartfelt wishes of friends and colleagues and priest.

Such a moment was the one an observer might have seen, in a quiet street by an old-fashioned church with a quietly traditional couple, in the midst of the bustle of a great city. But perhaps it is better that there was no observer, that night, but the gentle snow and the soft glow of the streetlamp.


End file.
